


1+1=3

by WriterX



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Developing Relationship, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Original Character(s), Parenthood, Past Relationship(s), Single Parents, Teenagers, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/776976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterX/pseuds/WriterX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hi. My name is Jason Timothy Holmes. I'm seventeen years old and a Leo. I've been playing the violin since I was seven years old and I'm the adopted son of London's only consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes.<br/>Fifteen years ago, my father's boyfriend of three years walked out on him. No note. No explanation. Just... gone. And it tore my dad apart. He pretends it doesn't bother him anymore, but every now and then I catch him playing with those old dog tags, and I know that somewhere deep inside, he's never really gotten over it.<br/>And now, just as I'm on the cusp of my last year of school before University and starting to work on a play for school, he shows up again. After fifteen years, he shows up and comes back into my dad's life. John Watson.<br/>And I'm not sure if I like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1+1=3

_My name is Jason Timothy Holmes. ~~I’m seventeen years old and I’m a Leo. I’ve been playing the violin since I was seven years old, and I’m an adopted child. Fuck, I left my eraser in my last class. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Now I’m going to have to scribble this all out. Why am I still writing if I’m going to cross this out anyway? Just to make it look like I’m taking notes.~~_

_~~And yes, I am that desperate.~~ _

__

  * _Cell division is responsible for lots of bodily functions ~~(wow, this lesson is going to be utterly fascinating)~~_



_Thank you, thank you ladies and gentlemen. It is an honour to accept this award tonight ~~. I’m so flattered, my face is turning red.~~ I’ve been dreaming of this moment since I was a little boy. I remember, I used to stand in front of the television with my father, and we would put the volume on mute so I could improvise dialogue to the movie we were watching._

_And that’s one of the people I’d like to thank. My father. Sherlock Holmes. Who, as unconventional as he may appear to be, is the best dad in the whole world. ~~I wouldn’t have traded all the toes in my cereal for anything.~~_

_God, this lecture is so boring. I’m writing my future acceptance speech just so I don’t have to take notes. What is she even saying? You know ~~, I bet you could stick grapes up her nose and she still would be able to breathe through them.~~_

  * _DNA is organized into chromosomes ~~(well, that’s simple enough to understand. Anything more than this is just going to go right over my head. I can feel it in my bones)~~_
    * _Diploids have 46 chromosomes; haploid cells have 23 chromosomes_
    * _Prophase, metaphase, anaphase, telophase_



_I can’t wait to get out of here. This class is so boring. Biology sucks. I don’t understand how dad likes all this crap. Why on earth does it matter how the cells in our body work? They work, don’t they? Why do we need to question it, or learn it? Just let them do their thing, and it’ll all be good._

  * _Interphase: in between episodes of mitosis ~~(well thank you for that stellar definition; I really feel like I learned a lot from that)~~_
    * _DNA chromatin_
    * _Centrosome duplication_



__

_~~I swear I am going to kill a bitch if this goes on for any longer. Dad wouldn’t be too happy about that. Maybe he wouldn’t mind too much if I killed Bobby Anderson. I might not get in trouble that way.~~ _

  * _Prophase: produces thick strands of DNA wrapped around proteins ~~(If I could be any type of enzyme, I would be a DNA helicase so I could unzip your jeans. Oh god, that’s so bad, I can never lift my head to see sunlight ever again)~~_
    * _Chromatids look like Xs (chromosomes); meet in the middle at the centromere_
    * _Microtubules left behind_



_Do you think she cares that half of the class is asleep? Honestly, Danny is snoring loud enough to rouse the dead. It’s terribly unsightly. And he drools. It’s gross. I want to smack his face with a pillow._

_Please, please, please let someone run into our classroom and shout about trolls being in the dungeon. That would seriously make my day._

  * _Metaphase: literally “after phase”; can take up to 20 minutes ~~(and they say cells are supposed to be fast)~~_
    * _Motor proteins move chromosomes_
    * _Centromere: associated protein E_



_I think the only bright side to this class is that James is in it. God, he’s so smart, and intelligent, ~~and sexy~~ , and funny, ~~and good-looking~~ , and athletic, and it’s not fucking fair._

_Do you think he would tutor me if I asked him? I mean, I’ve seen him hang around the theatre a few times, ~~and he’s said ‘hi’ to me a couple times in the hallway~~. That can’t be a bad sign, can it? ~~Not that I really need a tutor, because Dad helps me out with all this shit. But I wouldn’t mind getting that boy alone in a room for a couple hours. Yum.~~_

  * _Anaphase: ana = back ~~(No shit, thanks for the lesson in Latin)~~_
  * _Telophase_
    * _Cell structures are reconfigured_
    * _Chromosomes relax back into chromatin_



_Oh god, he just looked at me. And he smiled. ~~I can practically feel my face heating up. I must be the colour of a tomato right now. Oh, and now Gina is laughing at me. That’s brilliant. Way to go Jason.~~_

_~~Now, where’s the nearest hole to hell for me to fling myself into?~~ _

_I hope dad remembers tonight is Thai night. He forgot last week and we ended up eating soggy lettuce for supper. However, I will stand by the idea that getting a second fridge last month was the best idea I’ve had in ages. Now his experiments don’t contaminate the food._

  * ~~·~~ _Cleavage ~~(haha, cleavage, damn I’m immature)~~_
    * _Division between two cells_
    * _Cytokinesis: makes a clean break between two cells_
    * _Daughter cells of the original cells_



_I’m going to die of boredom. I swear. How much longer can this class be? The clock says there’s only ten minutes left, but I bet you it’s said that for the last half hour, so there’s no way I can trust it._

_~~Still thinking about James smiling at me. :)~~ _

__

_~~Jason <3 James xox~~ _

__

_To pay attention, or not to pay attention, that is the question: / Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to suffer / The slings and arrows of dull words / Or to take arms against a sea of boredom, / And by opposing end them._

  * _Walter Flemming_
    * _German Biologist_
      * _First observed mitosis_
      * _1878 studied salamander gills and fins ~~(well doesn’t he sound like a lovely bloke? I’ll just bring him home for supper. Hey dad, don’t worry about cooking fish for supper – my friend Walter here will experiment on them with you instead)~~_



_To die; to sleep; / No more; and by a sleep to say we end / The boredom and thousand useless words / That cells are heir to; ‘tis a consummation / Devoutly to be wish’d._

  * _Tomomi Kiyomitsu ~~(try saying that name five times fast)~~_
    * _Postdoctoral student @ MIT_
    * _Figured out how at least one of the motor proteins help snap the chromosomes into line ~~(did he use a whip? How did he do that, I don’t understaaaaaaaaaand)~~_
    * _Studied dynein; plays tug-a-war with itself ~~(what the hell is dynein. Yeah, thank you very much for explaining that. Thanks for ignoring my hand in the air, that’s going to be so useful to my learning. Thank you.)~~_



_~~OH THANK GOD SHE’S STOPPED TALKING. THE BELL IS GOING TO RING AND WE ARE GETTING OUT OF HERE! :)~~ _

The bell roars in Jason’s ears, mimicking the blaringly annoying sound of a foghorn. Yes, that’s advantageous to a productive learning environment. He sighs and opens the flap of his satchel, stuffing his abused notebook into the black hole that is his bag. Going back and fetching his eraser from his last class is essentially pointless, so he’ll have to search for one in his room later tonight.

 

Gina flits over to his desk, her skirt swishing about her thighs. “So, learn anything productive today Holmes?” Jason glances up at her, rising to his feet, a smile on his lips. “Oh you know, the usual useless blabber that will get me nowhere in life.”

 

She giggles lightly, pushing her long red hair back over her shoulders. Her green eyes sparkle, and she looks very directly over at James – who is still packing up his bag on the other side of the classroom. “Are you sure your thoughts weren’t a bit more preoccupied?”

 

Her voice is teasing, but Jason instantly flushes darkly. “You’re a nut.” He mutters, slinging his bag over his shoulder. She winks at him. “You know it, and you like it. Oh,” Gina pauses, digging into her purse to pull out her notebook. “Sorry, let me go talk to the Wicked Witch of the West. I need her to sign a detention slip.”

 

Jason rolls his eyes. “I’ll just wait for you outside the classroom”

 

“Good. Because you’d better walk me to my car.”

 

“Do I really have a choice?”

 

“Not really.”

 

Jason chuckles, shaking his head as Gina strides over to their teacher, a purpose in every sway of those hips of hers. He pushes his way out of the classroom, moving to stand by the potted plant outside of their class. The long week of London rain seems to have finally drawn to a close, and the sunlight peeks out at him from behind a fluffy cloud. He spares the sky a smile, his fingers picking up one of the ear buds resting against his chest before inserting it into his ear.

 

_So hot, out the box, can we pick up the paaaace? Turn it up, heat it up, I need to be entertaaaaained. Push the limit, are you with it, baby don’t be afraaaaiiii -aid. Imma hurt you real good baby._

The beat causes his foot to tap against the floor where he stands, his back against the wall that had been warmed by direct contact with the sun’s rays.. He closes his eyes, waiting, letting his lips silently form the words of the song.

 

_Let’s go, it’s my show, baby do what I saaaaay. Don’t trip off the glitz that I’m gonna display. I told you, Imma hold ya down until you’re amaaaaaazed. Give it to ya til you’re scream’ my name._

_Nooo escaaaaping when I staaaaart. Once I’m in I oooown your heaaaart. There’s no way you’ll riiiing the alaaaarm. So hold on until it’s oveeeeeer._

_OOOOHHHH! Do you know what you got intooooo? Can you handle what I’m ‘bout to doooooo? ‘Cause it’s about to get rough for yooooou. I’m here for your entertainment. OOOOHHH!!!! I bet you thought that I was soft and sweeeeeeet. You thought an angel swept you off your feeeeeeeeet. But I’m about to turn up the heeeeat. I’m here for your entertainment._

“What’re you listening to?”

 

Jason’s eyes snap open, and he yanks the ear bud out of his ear – face to face with James Baker. He swallows – _god, why are his palms so sweaty? That’s so unattractive. Quick stuff your hands into your pockets._

 

Jason slides his hands into his pockets. “Um, just Adam Lambert.” The other boy smiles at him, all blue eyes, blonde hair and dimples, his lips pulling back to reveal white teeth beneath that grin. God, it’s so unfair. A flush of self-consciousness falls over Jason. _Does his hair look okay? Did the nachos he had for lunch stick in his teeth? Oh god, James probably thinks he’s such a pimple face – he should have put on concealer this morning. Did he smell okay? He doesn’t wear cologne. Does James like cologne? Does James wear cologne? Oh, what does James smell like?_

 

“I love Adam Lambert.” James answers with a bit of a smile. He glances around, and leans a bit closer to Jason, as if he were going to tell the dark haired boy a secret. “Sometimes, when I’m alone, I like singing his music at the top of my lungs.”

 

_Oh, I bet your singing voice is bloody fantastic._

 

Jason manages a weak smile. His legs are quaking. _God damn it body, stop betraying me!_

 

James tucks a blonde curl behind his ear and shifts his weight between his feet. “Hey, um, I don’t know if you understood much of what Mrs. Harland said, but I didn’t really get it at all.” He laughs, and Jason has to force himself to remember to breathe. “And you always get such great grades on the tests. Do you think you’d like to meet up sometime to study? Teach me your tricks?”

 

_Yes. Yes, yes, I would like that very much. Damn it mouth, move! Speak! Don’t stand there looking like an idiot you fool!_

 

“Yep.” Jason manages to choke out, nodding his head and feeling like a broken jack-in-the-box. “Yeah, that sounds fine. I’m free most of the time.”

 

The blonde smiles brightly at him, looking down at the other bloke. “Great.” Those fingers pluck a Sharpie out of his pocket, and he takes Jason’s hand – _ohgodhishandsaresowarmandmyskinistinglingohgodohgod, breatheJasonbreatheyouneedtobreath, faintingrightnowwouldnotlookverygoodforyou –_ and traces out eleven digits onto the back of Jason’s pale hand. “That’s my cell. Just call me up whenever.”

 

He caps the marker, and Jason can barely manage a smile as a reply as James tugs the strap of his backpack closer over his shoulder and strides past the Holmes boy, turning around the corner and out of sight.

 

Jason lets out a breath he had been holding the whole time, and his shaky knees carry him down to the ground. He leans his head back against the wall. Oh. My. God. Had that really just happened? He must be dreaming.

 

He pinches himself. Nope. Not dreaming.

 

“Did I just see what I think I saw?” Gina cries, her face suddenly filling his vision, a brilliant smile plastered across her face. “You actually talked to James Baker?”

 

“A-Apparently.” Jason manages to stutter out, his own eyes wide with disbelief. “He, uh…” He shows her his hand, and she squeals loud enough to send a bird flying out of a nearby tree.

 

“Gina!” The dark-haired boy cries out, slapping a hand over her mouth and glancing around at the people staring at them. “God, could you be any louder?” She wiggles her eyebrows at him, and he rolls his eyes, letting her go.

 

“It was so nerve-wracking Gina, you don’t understand.” He runs his fingers through his hair, and then pushes himself back to standing. “I could have sworn I was about to faint.”

 

Gina shakes her red head at him. “Honestly, look at you Jason Holmes. I’ve seen you when you act – and you can play a mentally insane person, screaming lines at the other actors until they’re trembling with real fear. Yet you’re standing there shaking like a leaf because a boy gave you his phone number.”

 

He shoves her slightly, and she laughs, the two of them starting to walk away from the classroom and to the parking lot where her car resides. “Seriously Jason, I don’t understand your problem. As soon as you get on stage, it’s like you can do anything in the world. But stick your crush in front of you, and you’re reduced to a blubbering idiot.” Jason rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, don’t tell me you weren’t nervous when you and Chris got together.”

 

“Nope.” She tells him, a grin on her face as he lips pop with the sound of the p. “I asked him out, told him exactly what we were doing, when we were doing it and what was required of him, and he followed the rules to a T. We’ve had zero problems since. And you’ve been together for a year and a half now.”

 

Jason shakes his head, letting out a breath. “Gina, sometimes I think you’re superwoman.”

 

“Good.” She smiles, patting his arm before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “And don’t you forget that either.”

 

They arrive at her car, and she slides into the passenger seat. She rolls the window down, and they chat for a moment about planning a get together sometimes over the weekend – maybe get his dad to take them down to Scotland Yard again (that had been so much fun the last time), or maybe just go to her house and spend the whole afternoon listening to music. Their conversation is broken up when she gets an text from her Mum demanding that she pick up her little brother from primary school, so she gives Jason a wave and then backs out of the parking spot to attempt to navigate her way out of school pick up line of hell.

 

Jason smiles, and lets his feet take him to the sidewalk. He glances up and down the street, checking for cars, before he quickly strides across the black pavement, making way for the black truck his Dad is always standing by when he picks him up after school. And sure enough – there he is. Leaning against the hood of the truck, hands stuffed into the pockets of his long coat, scarf wrapped around his neck – even though it’s the middle of April and not nearly cold enough to require such clothing.

 

“Hey Dad.” He announces cheerfully as he steps up to the man, the two of them nearly eye for eye now. “Care to deduce what happened at school today?”

 

Sherlock blinks a few times, and then glances down at him, offering the slightest of smiles. “No, it’s alright, you can tell me.”

 

Jason smiles as his dad takes his satchel off his shoulder, wrapping it around his own shoulder, and the two of them start walking down the sidewalk together, walking towards home. “Well, there’s some big news. You remember how our theatre class is putting on the production of Hamlet at the end of May? And how there were auditions two weeks ago?”

 

His dad gives a small nod, and Jason smiles brightly, licking his lower lip and taking in a deep breath. “Well, remember I tried out for the part of Hamlet?” Sherlock nods again, and Jason is practically bouncing down the sidewalk with excitement. “Let me guess… you got the part of Hamlet?”

 

“I got the part of Hamlet!” Jason cries out, pumping his arms into the air in celebration, a wide smile stretching across his face. His dad smiles over at him. “Didn’t I say you were going to get the part?”

 

The boy rolls his eyes and bumps his dad’s hip with his own. “That’s not the point Dad.” The stop at a traffic light, waiting for the colours to change for them. “But yeah, I’ll update you as it progresses.”

 

He smiles and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Um, as for what else happened today… let’s see, I got full marks on an English paper I wrote last week. I didn’t die in physical education today, though I’m pretty sure that Monty Stark has it out for me. Though as to why, I can’t fathom.”

 

He glances over at his father as they start walking across the road. His dad looks like he’s paying attention, but his eyes are a bit off. Jason’s lips tilt down slightly. “James gave me his phone number today.”

 

No reaction.

 

“And you know, Gina and I had sex in the bathroom at school day. Didn’t use a condom. So, hoping she doesn’t get pregnant.”

 

Nothing.

 

“I was smoking in the bathroom today. Spray-painted some graffiti on the walls. Spelled out ‘suck my dick’ in the colours of the rainbow.”

 

Still nothing.

 

“I stabbed my teacher today. With a pencil. In the eye.”

 

“Mhm.” Sherlock nods his head absently. “Good for you Jason.”

 

The dark haired boy rolls his eyes and lets out a sigh. “Vatican cameos.”

 

“What?” His dad blinks, the glaze over his eyes vanishing as he blinks a few times and turns his head over to glance at his son. “What is it?”

 

Jason bites his lower lip, tilting his head at the detective. “Dad, is there something wrong that you’re not telling me about?”

 

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong.” His dad answers, glancing off at nowhere, his fingers holding onto Jason’s satchel. The boy looks at his dad in concern, but waits patiently. His dad will tell him when he’s ready.

 

“Do you mind if we have someone come over for dinner tonight?” Sherlock asks, glancing over at Jason, speaking slowly – as if he were choosing his words carefully. Jason’s lips dip down imperceptibly. “Yeah, of course. Who’s coming over? Uncle Lestrade? Uncle Mycroft? Mrs. Hooper?”

 

His dad licks his lower lip and glances away. “How about John Watson?”

 

Jason stops in his tracks, the name bouncing around his head like a bad song stuck on repeat. John Watson?

 

He can’t even begin to try and think it through. The idea was so absurd. John Watson. What was the bloke even doing in London, let alone talking to his dad?

 

Fifteen years ago, John Watson had walked out on his dad three years into their relationship, on the night that Sherlock had been planning on proposing to the bloke. Sherlock had gone out in the morning, leaving a note on the kitchen door telling John not to expect him home until supper – and when his dad had got back to the flat, a dozen roses in one hand and a ring in his pocket… John Watson was gone.

 

No note. No explanation. None of his belongings remained.

 

The only thing left of John Watson in the flat was the photo albums gathering dust on the shelf. A dust that Jason tries not to disrupt too much when he sneaks a peek into his father’s past.

 

Well, the photo albums, and a pair of dog tags that had belonged to John Watson in the war. But the dog tags had been found on the floor at the back of a dresser. They hadn’t been left there on purpose – pure accident that they lingered in the flat.

 

That was fifteen years ago. Sherlock hadn’t received a word about the man since. At least, not that Jason knew. And that was said with fair certainty. His dad is fairly open and honest with him.

 

He’s heard the story many times, told by different people from their different perspectives. John left. For reasons unknown, he left London without telling anyone, and wasn’t heard from again. His dad had spiraled into depression, and started using drugs again, and was forced to two emergency visits to the hospital from suicide attempts.

 

His friends, Ms. Molly Hooper, Uncle Greg, Uncle Mycroft, and Mrs. Hudson, had set up an intervention. They helped his dad sort through his depression and got him medication – and something that came up was Sherlock’s desire to have a kid. He thought, he had wanted a raise a child with John, and having a child by himself might give him something to cling onto, something to keep living for.

 

And that’s where Jason came in.

 

Two years after John Watson left Sherlock Holmes, the single man adopted a four-year-old Jason Timothy Springer. The adoption papers were signed, all legalities were met, and Jason went to 221B Baker Street as Jason Timothy Holmes, delighted beyond all reason to finally have a Dad.

 

“Jason?”

 

The sound of Sherlock’s voice jolts Jason out of his thoughts, and he looks up to see his dad staring at him, worry etched onto his face. “It’s just for supper, I promise. I ran into him at the café today, and he said he wanted to talk.” He gives his son a smile, one that’s soft and comforting. “Just give him a chance to speak, please? I swear, if you don’t like him once the evening is over, I’ll never speak to him again. I just,” His dad takes in a deep breath, and Jason can see just how badly this is affecting him. The man barely ever said please, and while he and Jason were on rather equal speaking terms, he usually just follows his own opinion on everything. “I need to know why he left.”

 

Jason lets out a deep breath and smiles at him. “Dad, I just want you to be happy.” He slings an arm around Sherlock’s waist, hugging his dad from the side as they walk. “So to answer your question, no, I don’t mind if someone comes over for dinner.”

 

But God have mercy if this John Watson shows up and tries to wreck his dad and their family. 


End file.
